“Your allegiance and a monthly monetary donation to our church.”
“A donation of what sort?”
“100.”
“100?” Lincoln snorted.
Surely, the preacher didn’t just say what he thought he heard. From ballroom chatter, he knew the going rate was ten thousand. He guessed he was getting the special, “You’re a Creed” rate.
“Done,” Lincoln agreed. “I want that one.” He pointed to Donatella.
“Which one?” Khal asked as he turned around.
“The black lady in the blue dress.”
Khal turned back to him. The look on his face was priceless, like Lincoln was trying to take his favorite toy.
He stood silent, seconds before shaking his head. “She’s off limits.”
“Hmph. I thoughtallthat you had to offer was mine. Is it not?”
The preacher smiled, but he was clearly uneasy. “All, except her. She and I are getting married.”
“So are you and all the rest,” Lincoln sneered.
“Pick any other woman. She and I are to be married.”
“Not tonight,” was Lincoln’s blunt response.
A scowl marred Khal’s face. He shook his head vehemently. “I’m sorry, Colonel. She’s mine.”
Lincoln glared down at the slightly shorter man and looked him right in the eye. “Not if you want my 100 thou,” he hissed at the conman.
